


zombie-man

by annusmiribalis



Series: zombie-man 'verse [1]
Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Angst, M/M, Parental Death, Workaholic!Alex, john is just trying to get him to Stop, lots of fluff soon !! i cant resist., reliving, some fluff in the middle
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-14
Updated: 2017-04-15
Packaged: 2018-10-19 00:08:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,036
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10628058
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/annusmiribalis/pseuds/annusmiribalis
Summary: If you stepped foot in one specific cafe at six-thirty in the morning, you would find a young man with a very messy ponytail typing furiously at a keyboard. Every so often, he would take a big gulp of a coffee cup next to him, and this increased the speed of his writing. If you watched long enough, you would notice a pattern; the typing, the gulping, more typing, and if you listened closely, an occasional cursing of "the Congress".This is what John Laurens witnessed one early February morning, and he promptly returned every morning to the same scene.or the one where Alexander is working way too much—in John's opinion—and he is determined to make him take life less seriously





	1. Chapter 1

If you stepped foot in one specific cafe at six-thirty in the morning, you would find a young man with a very messy ponytail typing furiously at a keyboard. Every so often, he would take a big gulp of a coffee cup next to him, and this increased the speed of his writing. If you watched long enough, you would notice a pattern; the typing, the gulping, more typing, and if you listened closely, an occasional cursing of "the Congress". 

This is what John Laurens witnessed one early February morning, and he promptly returned every morning to the same scene. 

 

                                                                                                         ———

 

One day, in the middle of the month, he began to sit down near the man, observing his unusual antics. Did he ever sleep? John doubted it. It was like he never left, just sat there, drinking and typing and cursing people he probably shouldn't know personally. 

As each day passed, he felt himself strangely drawn into the mysterious man. He wanted to know the reasons for his extreme behaviour, why he looked so tired, why he never stopped. He was curious, but carefully kept his distance. He enjoyed that; the invisible watching. The uncertainty principle, where the act of being observed changes the behaviour of the observed when the presence of the observer is known. 

John chuckled silently. It seemed his physics major seemed to have done some good, even if it was just to eye men. That thought made him smile to himself, but surprised him.

As he began to think more deeply, he was drawn out by a noise belonging to the Zombie Man—what Laurens had taken to fondly calling him—and he glanced in his direction. The stranger was blinking repeatedly, and John identified the sound he had just heard as a yawn. He cracked a smile. At least he knew he actually became tired. He just never slept.

Why?

He decided it was time to take action. 

 

John got up and stalked quietly in front of the man, who had gone back to typing ferociously. He was so lost in his world that he didn't notice John reaching out and touching the laptop until it was shut in front of him.

Brown eyes snapped up to meet his and were set in a hard glare before he could react to his previous action. 

"What do you think you're doing?"

This stranger's voice was low, and John supposed it would be smooth if it wasn't laced with so much anger that he instinctively felt the temptation to step back.

"You work too much," he said instead, inserting as much nonchalance into his voice as possible, shrugging his shoulders. 

"And this is your business because?" 

"Why are you so angry?"

The man raised his eyebrows and looked down at his closed laptop and back at Laurens as if he didn't believe what he was hearing.

"I don't know," he replied, heavy in sarcasm. "Maybe because I was working, and some- some stranger comes up to me and closes my laptop! I could have lost that work. Microsoft Word doesn't always autosave, you know. You need to learn manners. What were you thinking?"

John blinked. He sure does talk a lot. He noticed that Zombie Man's voice had softened a tiny bit, which he was grateful for. 

"You work a lot," he repeated. "My manners. Forgive me. John Laurens." 

He held out his hand, and the stranger glanced at it before sighing and taking it, mumbling a name John didn't catch.

"What did you say?"

"Alexander Hamilton." 

"Alexander. Interesting."

"What's that supposed to mean? John. You sound like a detective."

"Is that a compliment?"

"I hate detectives. They're so pseudointellectual, and the way they 'solve'—" Alexander said this last word with air quotations, which made John smile. The other man was oblivious, though, and continued. "—cases are bullshit, if you ask me. The worst one is Sherlock Holmes. Him and his detective. Who," he glanced at John, a small smile seemingly gracing his normally-frown-laden lips, "just so happens to be called John." 

John's smile blossomed, and this time Alexander did notice, who smiled back in return.

"Nice to meet you. Work less." 

"No."

                                                                                                         ———

 

The meetings continued. John would usually just sit for hours, it seemed, watching Alexander go through his usual pattern. Occasionally he would pause and notice John, and they exchanged words, but Alexander was always too impatient to get back to work.

John Laurens resolved to make him take a break if it was the last thing he ever did. 

He got up and walked the short distance to Alexander's table. He waited a few seconds, to see if the man noticed him, but when he didn't, he did his signature move. 

Alexander swore. 

"John Laurens. I swear—"

"Give me your number." 

Alexander was stunned to silence for the first time since their meeting. 

"Laurens, usually I would be very happy to give my phone number, especially to someone as appealing as you, but I have work to do. Ask me in, oh, ten years." 

John decided to ignore the comment, and instead grabbed his phone from the table. 

"Hey!"

"Shut up." 

He entered his number into Alexander's phone, allowing him to enter the contact name at a later date. He didn't care that much.

"There."

"What did you do?" Alexander looked suspiciously at his phone screen.

"Made sure you won't be working so much. Have a good day."

John smiled sweetly and walked out of the door into the warming March air, leaving a very confused Alexander Hamilton staring at the space where John had just stood. 

                                                                                                         ———

 

He found out what had happened when he began receiving unrelenting text messages every half an hour. 

[Laurens] I hope you're not working.

[Laurens] Make sure you drink water. That coffee is bad for you. 

[Laurens] Since you're leaving on me read, I will assume you are still working.

[Laurens] I will come there and stop you. 

At that last message, Alexander raised his eyebrows and messaged back.

[Ham] I'm not working.

He came in anyway. 

                                                                                                         ———

 

Alexander grunted, glancing at his lit up phone screen. As soon as he read—scanned— the message, he refocused on his work. He had to get this done by 5pm which, very much to his annoyance, was in approximately one hour and forty-three minutes. 

He had begun typing for about a minute when his phone buzzed again. And again.

He outwardly groaned and cursed John Laurens.

[Laurens] Alexander Hamilton, stop working.

[Laurens] Alexander

[Laurens] Goddamnit Alexander if you don't turn off that computer in ten minutes I will come right into that cafe and do it myself

He rolled his eyes and placed the phone back down onto the table, taking a sip of his double espresso. He breathed deeply and felt the caffeine shoot through him. Good. He needed it. 

He'd been working for exactly 9 and a half minutes since he'd left John on read. 

His laptop screen was pushed shut.

"Damn you, Laurens," he growled, falling back into the chair. 

"What did I say, Hamilton?" Laurens smirked, grabbing the laptop and tucking it under his arm.

"What are you doing?"

"You," the man said, while taking the coffee cup and gulping it down—at this, Hamilton scowled and began to glare. "my dear friend, are coming with me on a walk. We are going. Right now."

"Are you mad? I have this paper to write. It's due in," he checked his watch impatiently. "one hour and thirty-three minutes! I am not coming out for a walk with you to experience the freezing cold when I can experience it in my own personality every day." 

John merely stood there, smiling at Alexander's, well, bad, self-deprecating joke. 

Alexander sighed and got up.

"What was that about not coming out?"

"Shut up."


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They go on the god-forsaken walk (Alexander's words) and John finds out some things. Alexander wants to fight the world. Or John. Same difference.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it was requested! i will keep updating this now probably. enjoy!  
> yes yes i know it isn't as good but i Tried. i hope i didnt make it so that alex confides in him too quickly? If you have any suggestions for improvements comment and I will edit as due. thank you!

"So why is this happening? And where?" Alexander muttered to the freckled man falling into step next to him, still with his laptop. He refused to give it back.

"It is happening, dear, because you never sleep. The answer to the second question is a secret." John shot a glance to Alexander, who pouted and mumbled an "I do sleep," into silence.

John resolved to find out all about Alexander's weird routine. He was actually extremely proud of himself for getting him out of that damn café in the first place; he chuckled to himself.

Unfortunately, Alexander heard.

"What are you laughing at? I'll have you know, I get at least 2 hours sleep every night. That's normal. It's still too much. Stop laughing. I'll fight you."

"Oh, will you? With what? With digital weapons? I'm afraid, Hamilton, that's simply not possible at the present moment. Try again later."

Alexander growled under his breath. John took this as a victory and grinned.

 

They were silent as they walked, with the exception of Alexander muttering some snarky comment about nature. John told him to shut up before he turned it into a full blown tangent.

He discovered that Alexander Hamilton, with all his oddities, was very prone to rants.

Eventually, after what felt like an hour to both long-suffering men, they rounded a corner and faced a dead end. John smiled sarcastically to Alexander.

"Come on, then."

"I don't think so, Laurens. There's nothing in front of us except a misty meadow!" He shook his head and adamantly kept his feet glued to the floor. His ponytail wobbled.

"Secret," was all that John said with a smirk, and pulled Alexander into the knee-high grass, taking his grumblings with him.

 

———

 

"Why are you the way you are?" Alexander muttered, squinting up at the grey, cold sky.

"Are you talking to me?" John looked at the man and raised his eyebrows.

"No, the sky. Who else, idiot?"

"I'll answer yours if you answer mine."

Alexander tensed. What kind of questions could John Laurens have in mind?

He knew.

He wasn't ready.

"No." Alexander's voice was tight and short. John stopped, turning to face the other man questioningly.

"Why?"

"Secret." Alexander replied mockingly. He stopped too, facing John, and sighed.

"Come on, Hamilton. You have my number in your phone. What's more secret than your phone number? For all you know, I could be secretly trying to get in your pants, and this is all a cover up."

It was Alexander's turn to raise his eyebrows.

"John Laurens, if that were the case, you would have already achieved your goal."

John blinked.

"This is not a game, Laurens. I don't have petty reasons for my habits. Now shut up. I thought this was a walk, remember? I wasn't aware they renamed it a stand."

"Alexander-"

"No."

He strode ahead, and John sighed. It would be harder than he thought.

 

———

 

"Alexander Hamilton!"

"Alexander!"

_"Hamilton!"_

John began to panic, looking frantically around the grey sheet of mist that surrounded the high grass and majority of trees the meadow housed. His heart felt like it would explode out of his chest at any given moment. Okay, maybe that was an exaggeration. John Laurens was just very worried about Alexander Hamilton.

After a few distressing minutes of yelling and close-to-running around his immediate area, he spotted a loose ponytail poking out from behind a small canopy of leaves. He followed the sight, and came to a stone-still Alexander.

He was staring at a _tree_.

"Alexander?"

The man started, and glanced around to look at John, who shook his head disbelievingly.

"You- you- asshole. I was terrified for your safety, and you're looking at a fucking tree?"

"I hate them," Alexander began, overlapping John's words with a hint of hysteria at the edges. John fell silent and waited.

"I hate them. How could they just destroy something as beautiful as this? It keeps us alive, damn it! They want to take them away to feed their ever increasing need for unneeded stationary and whatever else they- they fucking use. _Newsflash_ , world, computers exist! And you, John," he directed this last part to the man standing behind him, turning to look with a glare in his brown eyes, "why are you here? Isn't it obvious I want to be alone? As if _staring at a tree_ doesn't get the message across."

John stood, his mouth falling agape. He wasn't focusing on anything but the words that were spilling out of Alexander's quick-working mouth and at the sudden address he was startled.

"You were lost." he responded dumbly, his eyes flitting over Alexander's seething face.

"Lost. Yeah." Alexander sighed and rolled his eyes, preparing to walk away, but John grabbed his arm.

"Sit."

When Alexander ignored him, John pulled him down onto the wet grass anyway.

"Spill, Hamilton. What's going on?"

Alexander sighed, hands curling into the blades of yellow grass surrounding them and closing his eyes. All rage seemed to have been sapped out of him and he just looked exhausted. He briefly wondered if he should do what John asked. _Fuck it. It would shut him up,_ he mused.

"I... I used to be in a debate team. In high school."

John nodded, letting him continue.

"I wasn't very good," he laughed bitterly. _Here we go._

"To practise, I would rant about random things, and start arguing with people. It improved my skills, but as I improved, the more I came to associate it with calmness. Control."

"Now... whenever I'm anxious, or alone, or scared, I rant.It helps me see the situation clearer. I go off on stupid tangents that no one cares about and I push people away because they think I'm angry at them or angry at the world and people hate to be around people like that, they hate to be around me-"

 _There it is._ Alexander cursed himself.

He had begun to slightly shake, and John bit his lip to stop himself from saying anything. He wanted to comfort him, but he somehow sensed it would not be welcome. Instead, he held the man, his heart aching with the sadness of it all. John had never been one to be good at handling—or expressing—emotions. He tightened his grip a little when Alexander fell into his hold, the shaking easing a little.

"Why were you ranting just then?" John asked cautiously, his voice gentle. Alexander sniffed.

"I was anxious. You were going to ask me questions... I knew what they were. Why don't you sleep, Hamilton? Why do you stay up all night? Why do you never stop?"

"Everyone asks, sooner or later. And if I tell them even the beginning, if I trust them enough, they leave pretty quick. Not surprising, is it? Why would anyone wanna hang around some 20 year old that still cries over his dead mother? "

As soon as he realised what had slipped out of his mouth, Alexander's body became rigid. He set his mouth into a thin line, and his eyes looked at John, searching for any hint of disgust, bitterness, anything that would confirm the thoughts he believed John was thinking. _Why did I say that?_

Instead, all he found was sympathy. Sympathy, and something else.

"It's okay, Alexander. You can tell me. I won't make you, but you can tell me. I'm here."

Alexander penned the strange emotion on John's face; it was curiosity. No one had ever been curious about it before. Maybe that was why Alexander began. Maybe it was because of the warmth from the other man overriding the cold air biting at his face, making him feel safe and appreciated for about the first time in years. Either way, he felt capable. And that was certainly something.

"In her sleep. That's how she... d-died. In her sleep. We had the fever. I survived and she didn't. I- She-" Even though he had just begun, the reliving of the situation was proving to be too much for Alexander. His voice broke, and a few tears slipped out of his eyes. He ignored them. He _had_ to do this. _Come on._

"I haven't been able to sleep. The only times I have, I've had nightmares."

"Not sleeping makes me anxious. I hallucinate."

John had an idea of where this was going. Everything was beginning to slot into place, like puzzle pieces.

"One night it was the worst. The worst time. I hadn't slept in 3 days. She- she appeared, Laurens. It felt so real. She hugged me. It all felt so- so real..." He trailed off and began to cry, sobs into John's shoulder. John just pulled him closer, letting him finish.

"i've been writing. Every night since. I can't sleep. I don't want the nightmares. Or- or anything else. The coffee helps. It stops the hallucinations." Alexander said, looking at John, his eyes red. John raised a hand behind Alexander's head and slowly and cautiously stroked the man's hair.

"What do you write?" He asked gently, lowering his hand and searching the other man's face for signs to his feelings about what he had just done. He saw none—Alexander's face was devoid of emotion.

"I rant. About the world. Anything I think of."

"I rant about you."

John raised his eyebrows, to which Alexander sniffed and rolled his eyes.

"Good things, I hope?" Laurens allowed a small smile to curve his features.

Alexander shrugged, eyes glinting for the first time that day. He breathed a deep sigh, stabilising his breathing. John pulled him closer slowly and held him for a few seconds, before letting go and getting up.

Alexander mimicked his action, before shooting him a look. His eyes were full of what seemed to John like gratitude. The man smiled.

"Thanks..." he whispered. He wiped his eyes and let out a long breath.

John pulled him into another cautious embrace. He didn't want to scare Alexander.

The other man rested his head on Laurens' shoulder for a few seconds and stepped back.

"Can I have my laptop back? Please?"

John rolled his eyes, but sympathy pricked him.

"Nice try, Hamilton. I'm sorry, but no. We're not finished yet. You're getting some more fresh air. Come on," he started walking away, leaving Alexander staring dejectedly after him.

With all the playfulness he could muster, he yelled,

"Laurens! You owe me!"

He sighed and began walking.

**Author's Note:**

> you can hit me up on twitter @thxtommy :)


End file.
